ched, her hands clasped above her head. Mr. Decies, blue-eyed,
black-haired, smooth of skin, looking noticeably long and lithe in his
close-fitting, dress clothes, made a rapid movement as though to lay
hold on her and bear her bodily away. Then, recognising the futility of
any such attempt, he turned upon the intruders, his high-spirited
Celtic face drawn with emotion, his attitude rather dangerously
warlike.

"What do you want?" he demanded hotly.

"My dear good fellow," Lord Shotover began, with the most assuaging air
of apology. "I assure you the very last thing I--we--I mean I--want is
to be a nuisance. Only Miss St. Quentin thought--in fact, Decies, don't
you see--dash it all, you know, there seemed to be some sort of worry
going on out here and so----"

But Honoria did not wait for the conclusion of elaborate explanations,
for that cry and the unrestraint of the girl's attitude not only
roused, but shocked her. It was not fitting that any man, however
kindly or even devoted, should behold this well-bred, modest and
gentle, young maiden in her present extremity. So she swept past Mr.
Decies and bent over Lady Constance Quayle, raised her, strove to
soothe her agitation, speaking in tones of somewhat indignant
tenderness.

But, though deriving a measure of comfort from the steady arm about her
waist, from the strong, protective presence, from the rather stern
beauty of the face looking down into hers, Lady Constance could not
master her agitation. The train had left the metals, so to speak, and
the result was confusion dire. A great shame held her, a dislocation of
mind. She suffered that loneliness of soul which forms so integral a
part of the misery of all apparently irretrievable disaster, whether
moral or physical, and places the victim of it, in imagination at all
events, rather terribly beyond the pale.

"Oh!" she sobbed, "you ought not to be so kind to me. I am very wicked.
I never supposed I could be so wicked. What shall I do? I am so
frightened at myself and at everything. I did not recognise you. I
didn't see it was only Shotover."

"Well, but now you do see, my dear Con, it's only me," that gentleman
remarked, with a cheerful disregard of grammar. "And so you mustn't
upset yourself any more. It's awfully bad for you, and uncomfortable
for everybody else, don't you know. You must try to pull yourself
together a bit and we'll help you--of course, I'll help you. We'll all
help you, of course we wil